


Normality

by alienpoetry



Series: You're a Habit [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, drug mentions but like for metaphoric purposes, literally one, one swear word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7359991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienpoetry/pseuds/alienpoetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil proposes when the tour ends. (It’s an ‘oh’, a beat and then nothing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normality

**Author's Note:**

> the characterisation rly stressed me out lol so idk if it's obvious but i didn't know where to take the fic and i wanted it to be longer but i literally didn't know how to make it any longer, i cut out so much because i didn't want it pretentious (literally my greatest problem)

Tour life is a shot of heroin.

Dan and Phil ride a high; giddy and light-headed and just when they feel like they’re about to combust, they’re crashing down into the depths of sleep deficits and caffeine overdoses.

This cycle continues for three months, it stings like a syringe plunged into their veins but it also exhilarates like a drawn out phantasm of kaleidoscope dreams.

Hence, the moment they enter the threshold of their apartment, they feel like they might breakdown from sheer exhaustion. Neither of them really feel like they’d make it past the first flight of stairs. 

 

* * *

 

But when they do make it up the first flight of stairs and fortunately the second flight as well, they’re stumbling into Phil’s bedroom.

“Dan, first we’re going to sleep for eleven years, then we’re gonna order some take-out for dinner tonight.” Phil says as he’s stripping off his jeans, ready to ensconce himself underneath his duvet, away from the rabid fans and high-pitched screams, the sharpie stains and cheek-numbing smiles.

“Phil, that is the best idea you’ve ever had.” Dan’s almost slurring, his eyelids drooping from the mere sight of the mattress.

“Come on.” Phil lifts up the duvet from his side of the bed as he tries to settle in, the curve of the mattress, as it sinks from his weight, almost feels unfamiliar. His bedroom, the way it differs from the pristine, cold, stolid air of the average hotel room, almost makes him feel like he’s in another foreign city in another foreign land.

Dan quickly crawls under the duvet and fills the negative space beside Phil. His form nestled against Phil’s; radiating heat, warmth and security is enough to lull Phil into a trance of tranquillity. Phil quickly presses a kiss to the side of Dan’s head before he drifts off into a soft slumber, slow and still with Dan beside him doing the same.

 

* * *

 

When Phil wakes up, he notices Dan’s still deep in the realm of sleep. He turns his head slightly, and watches the rise and fall of Dan’s chest. His breathing syncs with Dan’s, subconsciously. He’s still tired but he can’t help the smile twitching at his lips. _It’s one milestone after the other for Dan and Phil._ It’s watching his best friend beside him on stage smiling with him. It’s doing what he loves with the person he loves. He drifts in and out of reality, vacillating between the tangible and the dreamlike because he can’t even tell the difference anymore. He closes his eyes and in the darkness of his bedroom, Phil feels a sudden wash of adoration and pure euphoria inundate him.

_He’s going to do it tonight, he’s certain._

He stares at the ceiling and tries to gather his thoughts. They’ve been under immense pressure from the hectic ups and downs of life on tour, and a few small arguments here and there were unavoidable, sure but he can’t even remember any concrete moment from the past three months, _heck_ the past two years, where he wasn’t… just… _happy_. It’s a collage of memories flickering across the back of his eyelids where the moments of frustration and anger are dulled and blurred out. All that’s left are soft caresses of lips on flushed skin, the gestures of compromise and the unwavering affection behind Dan’s gaze, which sits almost permanently beside Phil’s right shoulder.

He glances at Dan again. Blood rushes to his ears and his heart is a kick-drum in his chest, pounding rapidly, because he knows Youtube fame is fleeting and people fade, he knows the sun rises and the sun falls but he also knows he can’t envisage a Phil without a Dan. Phil doesn’t possess any distinct skills of clairvoyance but he knows his future has a Dan in it and it won’t be anything short of coruscating fireworks and fairy lights behind his brain, around his heart and before his eyes.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t set up the table with candles or rose petals or wine. It’s Chinese take-out with Ribena and plastic forks because he doesn’t want Dan to get suspicious and mostly, because they’re Dan and Phil and it doesn’t work any other way.

Dan ambles into the lounge just after the take-out arrives, his hair messy, and his voice hoarse. Phil’s mouth goes dry and he feels like he’s back on a train station platform from seven years ago.  
  
Dan plops himself down on the sofa and rests his head on Phil’s shoulder.  
  
“I’m never going on tour ever again.” Dan says as he tries to suppress a yawn.

 

“Have fun telling the Australians that.” Phil snorts as he takes Dan’s hand and fiddles with his fingers.

 

 Dan looks a little puzzled at this. He turns towards Phil and comments, “Someone’s strangely affectionate today.”

 

 "We’re finally alone.” A hint of relief is evident in Phil’s voice.

 

“And, that sounds really creepy.” Dan laughs.

 

Dan’s slightly delirious and giggly from the lack of rest. Phil doesn’t know if it’s the lighting of the longue or he’s a sap caught in the whirlwind of post-tour delirium but Dan’s eye crinkles become stupefying. Phil feels like he’s back again perched on a dimly lit booth of a Starbucks in Manchester thinking, _I never want to stop making him laugh._

Phil just smiles because he doesn’t know what to say without giving anything away and Dan welcomes Phil’s small gesture of intimacy because it’s Phil and his touch has been the only familiar thing in the three months of traversing through strange places and meeting foreign faces.

 

* * *

 

After dinner, Phil suddenly feels like the little black velvet box in his back pocket is much too heavy. It sits there unapologetically, and it tugs and tugs at Phil’s mind like a reminder that Phil’s proposal is overdue.

Dan traipses out of the kitchen, beaming, “How about a game? It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

Dan walks towards their shelf and mumbles about which game to pick with his back turned. Phil finds the courage to get down on one knee with the box in his hand. He tries awfully hard not to shake.

Dan turns around when he realises Phil wasn’t responding, “Phil! I’m asking you which gam-“

His eyes widen and his breath hitches at the sight before him.

“Dan…” Phil takes a deep breath and starts, “The three months in America have only shown me that I don’t want anything else in life but to be next to you. I love you and I don’t think we’ve ever said that seriously to each other in the past three years because we’ve been doing it without words. But, I love you. Will you marry me?”  
  
Dan’s face drops and he hesitates, “P-Phil, I don’t know what to say.”

He’s never felt this awkward around Phil ever since they first met, and this time it isn’t the awkward tension between infatuated teenagers skirting around each other, afraid and coy. It was the tension between adults who are moving at a different pace; the brunt of rejection; the awkwardness of saying too much and yet not saying enough.

Phil drops the ring.

“What happened to ‘marriage is just a piece of paper’? I mean, I…” Dan continues, obviously trying to grasp for the right words but finding that they all melt on the tip of his tongue into mush, rancid and sour.

Phil feels the back of his eyelids burn and it stings. Everything stings.  
  
“I… I just thought we shared the same feelings about everything and- I-I’m sorry. This was a mistake… I-” A weight shifts onto Phil’s shoulders and he refrains from biting hard into his tongue _._

Phil gets up to leave the lounge because he’s embarrassed. He silently chides himself. He was so blind. Dan wasn’t ready _. He wasn’t ready._

“I’m so sorry, Phil.” Dan murmurs, soft and afraid because he feels like he did something wrong. The ineffable guilt that comes with hurting a loved one barges in like an avalanche, choking his heart.

 

* * *

 

When Phil reaches his room, he wants to slam the door but he realises he isn’t even angry. It’s a latent disappointment, instead. He couldn’t blame Dan, he would never want to see Dan being coerced into anything, he would never want to see their marriage be one of obligation but Phil’s still going to sleep with a heavy heart.

He feels lost in the middle of his own home and it’s bloody ironic.

 

* * *

 

Dan’s sitting on his own bed, clutching the box Phil left on the floor. He glances at the ring and it’s laughing at him, an unmistaken mockery in the glint of the diamond in the middle of the band. He shoves the box into one of the compartments in his bedside drawer like it burnt his hand. He wants Phil. _He does._ He could walk across the hallway and tell Phil he panicked, he had meant to say ‘yes’ and they could kiss, like they were handcrafted for a summer romance novel. Dan’s apologies could come in the form of gentle bites, swollen lips and a state of ecstasy with fingertips pressed into his hipbones.

_But._

Dan’s just a human trying to meander through life unscathed.

With the fans, the tour, Youtube and BBC work balanced precariously on the palms of his hands, marriage could wreck their carefully constructed reality. The repercussions of a simple matrimony could be entrenching. It could ruin them.

Living his dream came with a price. The price may inflict wounds but _hey, this is better than most, right?_ _Roses come with thorns but people grow them anyway._

 

* * *

 

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night with beds that empty.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Dan’s so tired and he’s never one to initiate acts of confrontation, but their relationship takes priority over every modicum of pride left in him so he drags himself out of bed. Fatigue gnaws at the edges of his neurons and he feels like he’s deflating cell by cell. A vestige of guilt lingers within him and it makes him nauseous.

He enters the kitchen to find Phil already there. The ease in the atmosphere dissipates instantaneously, drenching with discomfort as soon as Dan sets foot on the cold tiled floor.

Phil stiffens when he feels Dan enter the kitchen but continues adding sugar to his cup. He clears his throat, “Hey.”  
  
“Hey.” Dan replies and Phil instantly knows the other brunet didn’t get much rest either.

Other than the clinking of Phil’s teaspoon against his cup and the sound of Dan’s cereal filling his bowl, a bloating silence worms its way in between them. The excruciating silence rings as they wait on each other.

 And despite his ineptitude at dealing with emotions, Phil apologises first.

 

“I’m sorry.” It sounds definite like Phil sincerely believes he’s to blame.

 

“You’re sorry?” Dan’s taken aback. “I should be the one apologising Phil! Stop being so fucking altruistic for once, will you?”

 

Phil flinches at Dan’s tone like his words scalded Phil physically.

 

“I’m… I’m sorry. Oh my God, I can’t even apologise right. I-”

 

Dan lets out a groan of frustration and he feels the chasm between them deepen with every syllable. Dan thinks about how he’s supposedly articulate and eloquent but now he’s unintentionally flinging daggers of invective at the one he supposedly loves.

“No, Dan, it’s okay. We’re both tired. I… We’re okay. Okay? We can forget everything okay? Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” Phil’s words are strained but they’re stained with an overwhelming amount of concern.

Phil grabs Dan’s hand without letting Dan speak another word. He pulls Dan into his bedroom and he leads Dan under the covers. He kisses Dan softly on the top of his head and wraps an arm around Dan’s torso, tugging him closer, as they lie there, still and quiet. Dan feels the guilt bury itself deeper and deeper in his gut with Phil’s every breath; it latches onto him like a virus, cruel and unforgiving. However, sleep still comes easier when he’s encased in Phil’s arms.

 

* * *

 

When Dan wakes up, Phil’s arm is still draped across him. The sun pokes behind his blinds and the room suffocates him due the effects of a soporific summer’s afternoon. He tenses when what happened that morning sinks in and this wakes Phil up. Phil shifts a little before he opens his eyes. Dan’s mind is a static buzz.

 

“Dan.” Phil says softly as he sits up.

 

“I-I’m sorry.” Dan initiates as he sits up but blatantly tries to avoid meeting Phil’s gaze. All they’ve been doing is bounce apologies at each other the past 24 hours; the word ‘sorry’ tastes bland in their mouths and discordant to their ears. It’s futile and pathetic.

  
“Why are you sorry, Dan?” Phil asks, and the exasperation is subtle but present.

They’re both equally frustrated at themselves and each other. It’s a part of a being with someone, frustration is inevitable and it’s splash of salt on each other’s cuts but it’s how they nurture their relationship. _Cuts give white blood cells their function._ Dan scoffs at how ridiculously morbid his thoughts have become. Their post-tour reality makes Dan feel like he’s careening on a different plane of existence, it’s a feeling not to be romanticised. It’s like jet lag permanently etched into his brain and it’s like the turbulence of an aeroplane carved into his psyche.

“I… I let my insecurities get in the way of saying ‘ yes’, Phil. I,” Dan pauses, “I wanted to say ‘yes’ but then I thought about Youtube and the fans and everything we’ve ever agreed on keeping secret. Phil… There’s too much at stake… And, I’m sorry that I’m letting all this come in between us but… We can’t risk losing all this. You know that right?”

“I know this, Dan. God, don’t you think I’ve thought about this before? But why does getting married mean coming out? I don’t want us to do anything we aren’t ready for. Just… Dan…” Phil assuages as he awkwardly rubs his eyes. “I thought we could do it without anyone knowing, you know? But, I think you’re right. It’s too much of a risk.”

“I don’t think we can do this now, Phil. It’s not the right time.” Dan responses. He takes Phil’s hand and holds it firmly in his grip as a sign of reassurance. It’s another way to say ‘I’m sorry this is how things are’ and it’s another way to say ‘at least we’ve got each other’. Phil musters a smile but it looks sombre. It’ll do for now.

 

* * *

 

Things assume a semblance of normalcy for a while. They sit in the longue on their laptops. They film videos. Their chemistry doesn’t even fluctuate once on camera and they laugh. They watch movies together and it stays the same. The TV, the sofa, Dan, Phil, the fireplace, nothing changes. Maybe that’s the problem.

With a joint bank account, a shared business and a home they’ve built from an empty flat, there almost isn’t an aspect where their lives don’t coalesce; it’s marriage without the title. It’s a bittersweet numbness. It’s an incarcerated freedom.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Dan clicks on an article about a Youtube couple breaking up, he closes the tab after reading the first paragraph. He goes on Youtube and he sees a video Anthony posted with his new girlfriend. He thinks he’ll give this one a miss.

 

* * *

 

Dan attempts to scroll through Tumblr undistracted but images of the wedding ring are seared into his thoughts. The image is lodged into his brain and he visualises it smirking at him in unadulterated contempt. He closes his eyes for a moment and imagines a universe where they meet without the help of the Internet and it’s an ‘oh’, a beat and then nothing. It’s a profound darkness, bereft and desolated.

There is no other universe, there is no other ‘what if’. It’s them and the Internet and Dan can’t exactly say he’s upset about that.

This, however, means he can’t live a life with Phil as his husband without the world scrutinising every breath, every bat of their eyelids. It means having to always be perfect, immaculate clean-cut role models. It means having the paranoia of their relationship collapsing before his eyes, situated stilly on his shoulders. It means witnessing their careers and branding burning right to the ground with nothing but an absence in its aftermath. It’ll be like having never met Phil at all.

The thoughts are uncomfortably squirming underneath his skin and so he stops thinking. He goes to his computer to edit and tries to cease the whirring of his mind.

 

* * *

 

Phil’s in the kitchen later that day cooking them dinner and Dan sits in front of his iMac mindlessly adding and removing jump cuts. He hears the clanging of metal against the sink. He sighs from his lack of concentration and concedes to the clutches of procrastination.

He strolls into the kitchen and notices how the cupboard doors are all wide open. Phil’s spotting a pair of mismatched socks, obnoxiously bright, and he’s humming whilst carelessly flipping whatever he’s cooking with the spatula. Phil, blithe and animated, causes the droning in Dan’s head to fizzle out.

Dan closes the cupboard doors before he even realises it like it’s a reflex. Phil notices him and smiles.  
  
“Finished with editing?” Phil asks.  


“Well… I’m taking a break.” Dan replies, with intentional sheepishness.

 

“Dan, really? We promised a new gaming video yesterday!”  


“I know… Uh,” Dan expresses with hesitation, he tries not to dampen the mood, “Phil, are we okay?”

Phil places the spatula on the counter top and turns around to face him.

 “Why? I thought we were over… the…”

 

“Yeah, yeah… We are but I’ve just been thinking and it’s not a ‘no’. It’s a ‘later’ and I need you to know this.”  


“I _do_ know that. We’re okay, Dan. We’ll never not be. Okay?”

 

Phil leans into Dan before Dan can answer and presses his lips against Dan’s as an extra measure of placation. Dan kisses back with fervour and it’s a reflex as well. It’s always a reflex with Phil. One of his hand’s on Dan’s cheek as a ‘you worry too much’ and one hand’s rested on Dan’s hip as a ‘stay right here with me’, and it works.

 

* * *

 

 

That night before he heads to Phil’s bedroom, he turns into his own bedroom. He opens the drawer and fetches the black box from the corner of it. He pries opens the box delicately and stares at the ring once more. He takes in the glint of the diamond and the curve of the silver. It’s not mocking him anymore.

 

It’s making a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> i almost ended the fic angsty but then i needed closure lol 
> 
> the link to the fic on [tumblr](http://ravehowell.tumblr.com/post/146763516412/normality) :-)


End file.
